


You're My Heart, You're My Soul

by Miss_L



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, M/M, seriously, wear floaties lest you drown in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1200415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool is hurt badly (well, as badly as he can get hurt) and Peter is worried. That's it. That's the plot. What? *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liquid_Crimson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Crimson/gifts).



> ... as a present for their upcoming birthday ~~and an enticement to write gratuitous smut, muahahah!~~
> 
> Friend challenged me to write fluff and she should really know better than to challenge me...  
> Either way, this is going to be as fluffy as I can go without puking my stomach onto the keyboard, so do wear a hard hat. Or, indeed, floaties ;)  
> And I think it's obvious where the title comes from ;)  
> Luv y'all! <3
> 
> P.S. Since I'm filling out the note section anyway, might as well add something. I don't believe I've said it before, but my head!Spidey is Andrew Garfield (all the love and respect to Tobey, but let's be honest, who would win in a sass-contest? ;)) and 'Pool is just (comic!)'Pool (although Ryan Reynolds will forever and always be the one and only pre-Weapon XI Wade Winston Wilson :))

Deadpool woke up slowly. Well, “woke up”…

[Technically, dying isn't the same as sleeping.]  
 _{…}_  
[He’s still sleeping. Eh… Whatever that other thing is.]

The room was spinning a little, but he thought he was on his back on something soft. Could be wrong, to be honest, because his eyes were still closed. Or, rather – and even Wade himself shuddered to think about that fragile part of his anatomy thus – still growing back. He surveyed his body swiftly with his left hand – his right arm was still only partially healed, although already re-attached at the shoulder. Nothing missing, except some skin and little chunks of bone here and there. He didn't remember putting himself back together- A quiet sob-like sound, quickly suppressed, interrupted Wade’s ministrations.

“Who’s there?”

[Do you think it was a girl?]  
 _{Are we wearing our face? Because no girl would stay long enough to look at what’s under it.}_  
[Hence the crying? Also, welcome back.]  
 _{Thanks, pal. Did I miss anything big-breasted?}_  
[N-]

“Wade?” The voice was quiet and strained, but sounded so familiar…

[Rude, interrupting us like that…]  
 _{Shut up, it’s the crying girl.}_  
[I think it’s a guy.]

“Spidey?”

The bed – it was definitely a bed – dipped as someone gingerly sat down next to Wade’s hip. Soft hands – spandex-free – caressed his face. His ugly face. The mask was gone and someone was touching him? Was he still dead? A dream, a hallucination, what?? Before Deadpool could panic blindly _(literally, heh)_ , Spider-Man spoke again. This time, tears were obvious in his voice.

“Wade… You were gone so long, I thought… I thought you wouldn't…” He fell silent, one finger still tracing the ridges of a particularly deep scar on Wade’s jaw. 

For the first time in his life, Wade was speechless. He raised his good hand, pulled the glove off with his teeth and reached for where he had heard Spider-Man’s voice last. He nearly poked the unmasked man’s eye out, but managed to put his hand on his cheek. Oh, he was young; _so_ young, and yet so old, too. The wet face he was now stroking felt as if it had already seen too many hardships for such a short life. He wiped away the tears and smiled.

“Spidey… You know I have a healing factor, right?”

“Yes, I… I know.” The boy sighed shakily, warm breath raising goose-bumps on Wade’s hand. “It’s Peter. And… You can look at me, you know, if you want to…” 

The tone was equal parts hurt and insecurity, so Deadpool hastened to reassure his rescuer.

“I’d love to, Sp… Peter, really. But my eyes are still… Umm… Gone.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Does… Does it hurt? Can I do anything to help?”

Wade smiled.

[What a cute boy.]  
 _{Mmmm, we want to kiss him and then fuck him senseless.}_  
[Hey, rude! He saved us, we can’t just jump him. Besides, he’s straight.]  
 _{Balls.}_

“It’s alright, they just take time to regrow. As soon as they’re back, I’ll look at you, promise.”

Peter stopped twitching and resumed his caressing of Wade’s face, making sure he avoided the eye sockets. Deadpool was most definitely _not_ purring under the attention, and that most definitely did _not_ make his young hero giggle. They stayed like this in relative silence, Wade’s voices gone quiet and Peter humming some old tune the merc couldn't quite place. Finally, the optic nerves connected with the right bits and ‘Pool opened his eyes carefully.

If Wade Wilson would have grown up in a normal family, the feeling in his chest would automatically be associated with Christmas. Or perhaps Hanukkah. Either way, it would be something light and soft and warm. Because that’s what Peter Parker’s face was. A ray of fucking sunshine on the worst possible day (not even an overstatement, considering what kind of Satan’s arsehole situation the boy had pulled him out of). A pile of presents on the coldest morning of the year. Or just a cup of water when one’s dying of thirst. Wade would sell all his consecutive livers and never touch Mexican food again if that would ensure he needn't ever stop looking at that beautiful face.

Peter started shifting uncomfortably under his gaze and Wade felt himself blush. He _was_ staring. 

[We’re being rude.]  
 _{Shut up, they’re having a romantic moment.}_  
[Ugh, I’ll go puke in a baggie now, call me when it’s over.]  
 _{Aaah, l’amour!}_

Wade sat up on the bed, checking that his limbs were all in the right order, trying very hard _not_ to look at Peter’s angelic face and failing miserably, all the while fretting about assaulting those big brown doe-eyes with his own ugly mien. Somehow, the rest of his suit was still intact in most places, even fully covering his modesty. Or lack of it. While Wade contemplated why it was even called "modesty", Peter walked back to the chair in the corner of the room and picked up his mask and gloves.

“I should get back on my patrol,” he supplied quietly, pulling on his defences. “You can stay as long as you want, don’t worry about the sheets. My suit is often bloody, I know how to wash it out. Got a recipe from my aunt, and-“ He caught himself ranting and shut his mouth with a loud “clack”. 

Wade couldn't help but smile at him again – he hoped he didn't look like a lost puppy.

“When will you be back?” 

No, that was not what he had wanted to ask. He sounded like a creep, and what he needed to do was get out before Peter came back and never bother the young man again. But the expression behind the webbed mask seemed… Benevolent? Shy, perhaps? Wade dared not dream-

“In an hour or two. There’s cold pizza and beer in the fridge.”

Spidey hopped onto the windowsill, shot a web at the building opposite and swung out of sight, taking Wade’s heart with him. The merc looked on, as mesmerised, then sighed and smiled dreamily.

“Guh…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le floof continues... And possibly intensifies ;)

Peter was back sooner than Wade had expected him. Still, by then the merc had managed to wash the sheets he had bled all over (his own things were not exactly strangers to bodily fluids of all kinds), wash and dry his own dirty suit (resisting the urge to steal some of the boy’s clothes), clean Peter’s cluttered little kitchen, eat and drink exactly half of everything in the fridge, go through Peter’s wardrobe (perhaps best if the web-head didn't know about _that)_ and read the spines of every book in the house. 

Right now, he was lounging on Peter’s – clean – bed and flicking through channels on the tiny crappy TV. Deadpool was already planning how much he would have to make on his next job to get Peter out of this dingy shithole and into a decent apartment with a flatscreen and a kitchen that could hold at least two scrawny teenagers at the same time. He knew he wouldn't be part of the deal, but he wanted the boy to have a good place to stay without worrying about not being able to pay the rent.

[Best not to tell him where we get the money. Those hero-types are very squeamish about killing people, apparently.]  
 _{What does he think a merc does? Mow lawns? Sell merchandise? Ehehehe, "merc-handise"!}_  
 _Shut up you two, here he comes._

Spider-Man crawled through the window, seemingly exhausted, and Wade berated himself mentally for not offering to accompany the youth on patrol. Well, that might have been a tad forward. He walked over to the boy, took him by the hand and sat him softly on the bed. Peter was so tired, he didn't even think about the sheets, he just let himself be manhandled. Wilson took off his mask and gloves, then hesitated, but the boy was already reaching for the various zips on his suit. Contrary to his usual behaviour, the merc looked away modestly _(oh, is that why it’s called “modesty”?)_ while Peter got up and dragged himself sluggishly out of his garment, almost toppling over in the process and dropping the suit on the night stand. Wade wasn't looking – honestly! – but his peripheral vision was just fine, so he caught a glimpse of pale skin and dark blue boxers before Peter had crawled under the sheets. The boy inhaled their clean scent – _probably a childhood habit_ – and smiled up at Wade.

Deadpool decided it was time to go, but Peter caught his hand when he turned towards the door. The plea on his face was louder than any words, but he still confirmed it.

“Stay? Please?”

There was such an innocence on the young hero’s face, Wade felt dirty about his earlier thoughts. However, there was also a sliver of something much darker deep within his liquid brown irises. A heady mixture, and not one Wade Wilson could resist. At all. He nodded and walked around the bed. Peter was watching him with a puzzled expression on his face. Wade stopped.

“What’s wrong? Change your mind? I can g-”

“No, it’s… I don’t know how comfortable your suit is, but you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in.”

He didn't suggest Wade wear nothing but his underwear – he had seen enough of the merc’s appearance to realise the man wouldn't be comfortable in his birthday suit around anyone, perhaps not even himself. He didn't seem put off by Deadpool’s out-of-suit looks, however. 

_He’s so sweet, guh!_  
[Bee-Er-Bee, puking again.]  
 _{Ugh, you’re the least romantic box I've ever met!}_  
[That’s not true! I asked you to marry me three months ago!]  
 _{Yes. It was a beautiful ceremony… Alright, besides that.}_  
[Shut up and kiss me.]  
 _{Yes, dear.}_

And people were wondering why Wade was so messed up! Even his boxes got married, and he was still frustrated beyond belief. He just hoped he wouldn't get a hard-on and make Spidey hate him forever. 

He dug through the wardrobe, pretending he hadn't done that before (he’d put everything back the way it was!) and fished out the biggest sweatpants he could find, and an oversized band T-shirt. Peter was pretending not to look as he was changing, his back to the bed, but the merc knew better. Still, he felt unusually at ease around the boy. He wondered why that was… 

Wade turned off the light and found the bed by touch, moonlight falling through the half-closed curtains surprisingly unhelpful. Finally, he stumbled upon a lump, lifted the sheets and joined Peter gingerly, keeping his distance so as not to scare the boy off. His worries were unfounded, however, because the moment Wade’s heat filled the bed, Peter scooted over and fitted his frail-looking frame perfectly to the bigger man’s behind him. Wilson put his arm around Spidey’s thin waist, not really believing this was happening, but not wanting this happy hallucination-dream-thing to ever end. After all, how many people could say they were, at some point, Spider-Man’s big spoon? Although Wade was starting to like Peter (even) more than he did Spidey. It didn't take long for Peter to start sniffing adorably. Wade followed suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade woke up slowly. He was achingly hard – _not new_ – and hugging something soft and warm – _a little new?_ Luckily, consciousness kicked in sooner than usual and he hastened to scoot back and get his dick away from Peter’s butt, hopefully before the young man woke up and hated Wade forever. There would be “hating Wade forever” at some point, there always was, but the merc really really hoped he could postpone it as long as possible this time. A half-snore and some sleepy smacking of lips – [Gross.] - _{N’awww, cute!}_ – announced Peter’s awakening.

Long fingers traced Wade’s arm slowly, probably remembering whom the hell the boy had brought home with him. The scars were a dead give-away, but instead of jumping out of bed and maybe burning the apartment down with Deadpool in it, Peter scooted closer into Wade’s personal space. 

_Shit. Think of disgusting things. Blood. No, not blood. Umm… Blind Al naked. Yes, that’ll do it- ___

[Too late.]  
 _{Owch.}_

__Peter froze when his soft buttocks connected with something that wasn't technically supposed to be hard in this situation. Wade cursed himself inwardly, in every language he knew and a few he didn't, then hastened to apologise._ _

__“I'm sorry, Peter, it’s just… You know, ummm… I'm so sorry, I’ll just go…”_ _

__Spidey grabbed his hand when he tried to get out of bed and chuckled softly._ _

[Great, now he’s laughing at us.]  
 _{Rude!}_  
 _He’s right, this_ is _a very ridiculous situation._

__Wade was so busy talking to himself in his head and being absolutely mortified, he almost missed Peter’s reply._ _

__“Wade, it’s okay, calm down. I'm male, too, remember?”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__The meaning of the words took a while to sink in, but Wade finally relaxed and stopped struggling._ _

__“Kay. Ummm… Thanks.”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

Peter didn't try to regain his little spoon-position, but he didn't let go of Wade’s hand, either. His slim fingers interlaced with the merc’s, like they had always belonged there, and he sighed happily. Wade briefly wondered whether he should get a CAT-scan or just shoot himself through the head to regain some kind of a grip on reality, but the truth was… Even if this wasn't real, it was infinitely better than his own shitty life. He breathed out, willed his cock to calm down and go away _(not_ literally!) and draped himself over the youngster once more. Peter giggled again and squeezed his hand. _Heaven._

After some more lying about, Wade got restless. Inside his head, that is. He tried hard to think of what day it was, because the odds of them staying friends would be severely diminished if he made Peter miss school. Or work. Or whatever it was he did in his non-web-headed-hero time. Wade had never bothered to find out Spidey’s real life because a. Mystery was very erotic and b. Spider-Man had never seemed to like him much, so his “owner” would probably not, either. Why get your hopes up if your heart is likely to be broken anyway? Wouldn't be the first time. He was a hopeless romantic, perhaps, but even Deadpool could learn something after having it explode in his face about a dozen times. Like not to play with sem-tex. Or not to pursue a crush that was doomed to fail from the start. 

__The tension got too much, and he shook Peter’s shoulder softly._ _

__“Mmmh?”_ _

__“Pete? Sorry to wake you, but don’t you have school or work or whatever to go to?”_ _

__“Mmm… Wade, it’s Sunday. Nobody works on Sunday. Well, some people do, but I don’t.”_ _

Sunday, of course! The merc let out a relieved breath and smiled to himself. _How silly of me!_

__Peter turned around, brows furrowed in worry._ _

__“Do you have to go? Because it’s okay, you don’t have to stay, I-”_ _

__“No, no! I just… Wasn't sure what day it was.”_ _

__“Wasn't sure..?”_ _

__“Didn't know.”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__It felt like a cold prod pierced Wade’s heart._ _

[Great, you moron, you blew it!]  
 _{Aw, come on, he knew we were crazy.}_  
[Apparently not. He probably thought we were “eccentric” or some such bullshit. Now he’s really gonna dump our ass.]  
 _{And we didn't even get any…}_

Peter was still looking at his human blanket in puzzlement. Then he smiled – a small, tender thing that only just quirked the corners of his beautiful full lips.

“I’ll get you a wall calendar.”

“A what?”

“A wall calendar. You know, with days of the week and months? That way, you can cross out a square every morning and always know what day it is.”

Wade’s heart melted and travelled about halfway down into his stomach. But instead of thanking they boy for not kicking him out…

“I also hear voices. In my head. And I hallucinate. And probably a lot of other crazy shit I don’t even know about.”

The room fell quiet. Wade’s melted cardiac muscle solidified again somewhere around his colon and he felt sick. Of himself, of course, but also because he had just blabbed and fucked shit up entirely. Possibly. No, most likely. Unless Peter was just as crazy as him, there was no way he’d want anything to do with a psychotic assassin.

“I wish I could help.” There it was. Letting him down as kindly as he could, bless the boy’s tender heart. “But if you want to talk about it or something… I'm here.”

[… WHAT?]  
 _{I duh… MUH… Asdfghj?}_

“That’s it. I'm hallucinating right now.”

“Why would you think that?” 

Peter wriggled around in Wade’s strong arms and faced the man fully. Both ignored each other’s morning breath – that’s what morning-afters were for. That, and awkward erections. _Focus._

“Because there’s no way in Hell Spider-Man – or Peter… ummm… I’ll need to find out your last name at some point…”

“Parker,” the boy supplied helpfully, still frowning a little. And now he was pouting. 

Oh dear Taco in Burrito-heaven, Spidey could _pout!_ Wade tried to tear his eyes away from those lips, lest he accidentally kissed them. Too many disasters have already been averted to risk another one. First things first.

“Yes. So, Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, aka the sweetest and cutest boy-man-person in the entirety of New York – shut up, that’s a compliment – would _not_ want to be friends with a crazy person who kills for money and sees things that are not there. Hence, this is a thing that’s not there. And I'm seeing it. Currently.”

Peter’s face was a comical study in confusion. Then it cleared and he smirked, almost evilly.

“Why wouldn't I want to be friends with you? You’re warm and my heating doesn't always work.”

[I think he likes us.]  
 _{And wants us to stay.}_  
[He’s definitely crazier than we are.]  
 _{I approve.}_  
[Second that.]

Wade made no answer, he just gaped at Peter until the young man pushed his mandible shut. Good thing, too, because it had a nasty habit of detaching itself at the least opportune moments. Peter was searching Wade’s face, while his own was an open book of insecurity and angst – but still there was that wicked streak hidden within, and oh, if that wasn't a turn-on like none other… In short, things were poking other things again, even though they weren't supposed to. The young hero took that as assent and brought his face slowly to Wade’s. Deadpool held his breath and closed his – still relatively new – eyes. The kiss didn't taste particularly “fresh”, but it was a perfect mixture of tender and filthy Wade had never experienced before. He grabbed the younger man’s hair and tugged at it softly, grinding his hip against a new upstanding member of the bed-society. Oh yeah, this was going to be the best Sunday ever…


	4. Chapter 4

Things usually got awkward once Wade had had sex with someone – this has definitely been true for Typhoid (awkward _and_ disgusting). But Peter was different. He was sweet, and hot, and safe. There were no demands or weirdness. He never asked when Wade would come over or what he was doing. But there was always a bright smile on his face when Deadpool climbed in through his window, so Wade made it a habit to come around at least every other day, sometimes after Spidey’s patrol, other times he would join the masked vigilante on his rounds. After about a week, they had settled into a pleasant rhythm. Peter made sure he had his homework finished and Wade put on a not-stained-by-blood-of-usually-not-so-innocents suit and even took a shower (to the boxes’ great shock).

Wade had decided to swap his usual red-and-black togs for something more “ordinary” today. Good thing it was evening, because he always got weird looks from passers-by. Usually, he wouldn't give a damn, but he was always nervous when he was about to see Peter. He wasn't sure whether it was because he dreaded to find out he had been visiting an empty apartment furnished by his derailed mind, or because he was – not that he’d ever admit it, even to the boxes – in love? Either way, he pulled his hoodie further over his forehead as he rounded the corner, clenched the (already somewhat mashed) flowers between his teeth and jumped onto the fire-escape that would lead him directly to Peter’s yonder window through which a light – blabla, Shakespeare. 

[Ugh, you’re disgusting.]  
 _{If I had hands, I would smack you! How dare you! It’s. The. Bard!!!}_  
[Calm down, no need to get your panties in a twist.]  
 _{IT’S FUCKING CULTURE, YOU PHILISTINE!!!}_  
 _Sometimes I wonder how I haven’t gone crazy with you two around._  
[…]  
 _{You have…}_  
 _Oh… Yeah. Shut up now?_

He tried to be quiet, but Peter had no doubt already sensed his arrival. Wade couldn't help but grin hugely, almost dropping the flowers like the proverbial crow.

[Hey, if we keep quiet, can you skip the kiddies’ books references?]  
 _{Ignore him. He’s just crabby because we’re missing tonight’s Supernatural and Peter’s TV broke yesterday.}_

Wade peeked through the window. No Peter. He climbed inside and finally released the poor vegetation. On the bed was a festively wrapped package with Wade’s name on it, but despite spiking curiosity, the merc decided to find the young man first. Unwrapping stuff together was more fun. Heh.

Peter was in the kitchen, making wraps. They weren't quite as good as Wade’s yet, but he was learning. The young man’s shoulders tensed – Deadpool was still in the “danger” zone of his spidey senses – but he didn't turn around or even flinch when Wade slowly slid his arms around his lithe waist, bringing the poor tortured flowers in his line of sight. Peter pried the token out of his hands, breathed whatever smell was left in them in and melted contentedly against the taller man. Wade briefly wondered how well the boy’s frame fit to his own before the smell of _Peter_ enveloped him and he forgot how to think. All he could do was feel, smell and taste. He kissed and nibbled Peter’s long neck, eliciting increasingly filthy noises, which escalated into a throaty moan when Wade licked that spot just below Peter’s hairline. 

The young man put the bouquet down gingerly and turned around, flinging his arms over Wade’s neck. He seemed pleasantly surprised to see his lover’s unmasked face – if the grin plastered against the webhead’s lips was an indication. 

“I missed you,” Peter whispered in Wade’s ear. That _did_ things to Wade.

“Peter, I swear, you’re going to give me an aneurysm. Or a coronary,” the taller man gasped. “But what a way to go!” He grinned.

Peter was still not entirely on board with Wade talking about dying so casually, but he knew he’d have to get used to it. At least Wade always came back.

“Have you seen your present?”

“I have. But I wanted to open it together. Also, what’s the occasion?” Wade was already pulling Peter with him by one grilled chicken-covered hand (he made a note to lick that hand clean and soon).

The boy smiled shyly and ignored the question. He just kept smiling wider and wider as Wade gingerly peeled the wrapping off his gift. Peter’s face almost split in two when he saw confusion being replaced by a happy realisation on the merc’s face. Wade was still looking at the wall calendar with Spider-Man’s face on it like it was a rare treasure. Finally, Peter couldn't take it any longer.

“I promised, didn't I?” He wrapped his arms around Wade’s waist and nuzzled the taller man’s neck. “I know it’s tacky and a bit vain, but this way, you’ll never forget to look at it.” His voice had done the thing where he got too shy to speak at an audible level.

“It’s… It’s beautiful!” Wade finally uttered, stroking the cardboard cover. “And this way, you’ll always be in my house. Oh, that sounded creepier than I mea-mmpf!”

Apparently, it’s wasn't as creepy as he thought, because Peter kissed him so eagerly, Wade was almost certain, for half a second, that the boy would swallow his tongue. He smirked into the kiss and put his present aside. After all, the real gift was in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've not been able to find anywhere what Wade Winston Wilson's real date of birth was, so I made one up. Ish xD

“Wade.”

[Oh-oh. He’s got his serious voice on.]  
 _{That means trouble, yeah?}_  
[Usually, yes. Like that time we did a job during a date.]  
 _{In our defence, we didn't know the mark was going to go to the same restaurant. And we changed into our suit first.}_  
[Still, he wasn't impressed with blood-splatters on his new shirt…]  
 _{… Or watching his boyfriend slit five throats with a kitchen knife...}_

“Yes, Peter?” Wade replied, nerves fluttering in his stomach. The look on his boyfriend’s face was benevolent, but stern. _Damn._

“Wade, do you know what day it is?”

[Shit. Trick question! What did we cross off on the calendar?]  
 _{… Ummm… Blargh?}_  
 _Come on, guys, work with me!_  
[Well, this month has a particularly view on Peter’s butt…]  
 _{Yes. April, more like Ass-pril!}_

“Umm… Friday. I think... No, I'm really extra sure it’s Friday.”

“I mean what date, Wade.”

Peter was always extremely patient with all the things that went wrong in his lover’s headspace, but there were limits.

“I… I think… Oh Peter, your butt looks so good on this month’s picture, I may have crossed everything off without knowing!” Wade finally blurts out and covers his head with his hands. He knows Peter won’t hit him, but he hopes to play the pity card.

The web-head sighs and sits down next to the big silly merc. Wade slowly lowers his arms and pouts. 

“I'm sorry, Pete, you know it’s all scrambled eggs up here,” he says and motions to the general vicinity of his noggin.

The young man smiles and cups his boyfriend’s face with his hand.

[Perhaps we’re not fucked yet.]  
 _{Actually…}_  
 _Shut it. Peter is talking._  
[Tsk… Rude!]  
 _{Yea! Hmpf!}_

“It’s your birthday, Wade. And you haven’t invited anyone.”

Wade’s mouth opens and closes, then opens again.

“No, it’s not my… Uhm… I don’t think it’s…”

“Yes it is. I looked you up, Wade.”

“Oh.”

The men looked at each other fondly, then started giggling.

“Wouldn't you like to invite anyone? Besides Aunt May, obviously.”

“She’s coming?” Wade asked panicky.

“Of course she is, it’s you-”

Before Peter could finish the sentence, the big scary merc was already putting on an apron and grabbing the hoover.

“Wade, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Petey? Cleaning your horrible mess of an apartment, of course! Your Aunt is coming over for my birthday – although I'm entirely too sure it’s _not_ my birthday, but I can’t really remember when it _is,_ so I don’t really have a leg to stand on – well, I have two, but you know what I mean – and-”

Peter got up, kissed his fussy boyfriend on the cheek and left Wade to mutter to himself while he did housework he usually never would otherwise. To think that a little old lady would have such an effect on Deadpool! Peter giggled to himself as he put on his coat and went out to get groceries and cake. Good cake, because it was unlikely that Wade had a nice birthday party very often. The young man wondered if there was anyone he should invite, although it was doubtful Wade would have many friends. But perhaps some old buddies? Or that old lady he sometimes talked about, Blind Alfred? Well, that was Wade’s decision. He just had to remember to remind him about it again.

Peter wasn't running late, but he decided to take a short-cut anyway – a nasty little alley that allowed only little light, even on the brightest of days. Of course, as was his luck, he soon found himself surrounded by a couple of nasty-looking tugs. Not a big deal for Spider-Man, but he happened to still be nursing a nasty shoulder injury. Groceries more or less safely deposited in a corner, he managed to neutralise two of his attackers before the grip of a gun caught him on the back of his neck and his legs buckled under him. Peter sat on his knees, groggy and aching, feeling the cold muzzle pressing against his temple, when a new player entered the field with a very homicidal “Banzai!”

Severed limbs were falling onto the pavement like confetti and agonized screaming filled Peter’s ears, adding to the sick feeling in his stomach from the blow. He got up with difficulty and finally looked up. Wade wasn't even wearing his suit – he had probably heard (sensed?) that Peter was in trouble, grabbed his katana and ran. His favourite “Kiss the Cook” apron was dripping with blood, and it would be funny if it wasn't so gruesome. Peter wanted to throw up.

“Wade, no!” he shouted when he saw his boyfriend’s katana slash through the air, stopping mere inches from the gunman’s throat. His firearm clattered to the ground and he lifted his hands shakily. There were tears in his eyes and the front of his jeans was darkening with moisture. It said a lot about the state of Wade’s rage that he didn't make a smartass comment about that, choosing instead for katana-butting the thug in the head. As far as Peter could see, two were dead, two others were missing (various) parts of their anatomy and the one with the gun was out cold. Peter turned around and promptly vomited into a dumpster, feeling better almost instantaneously.

Wade walked over to him, stepping casually over bleeding people, and put a hand on the boy’s forehead.

“Are you alright, Peter?” he asked quietly, katana in his other hand clanging together happily.

The web-head smiled weakly and nodded.

“We should go before someone sees this and calls the police. And you’re calling an ambulance on those who are still able to breathe.”

Wade grumbled, but conceded. He put his blades down the trouser legs of his jeans and pulled he hood of his sweater up before he offered Peter his arm. The youngster picked up the bag of groceries and cake that had miraculously survived the ordeal unscathed, and they made their way to the apartment. 

Wade insisted on giving Peter a full-body check-up _(No, not like_ that, _you dirty reading-person, you. Yes, you! I can seeeeeee you, mouth-breathing in front of your screen_ *squinty eyes* - DP) before sending him to have a shower. Then he changed his mind and joined Peter, blood and sweat mingling at their feet as they snuggled up under the hot water. The tender moment was over all too soon because Aunt May was going to arrive soon.

“Wade, have you thought about inviting any friends or family?” Peter ventured again while he was setting the table for tea.

Wade shrugged non-committally, never meeting Peter’s eyes.

“I've got all the family I need right here,” he finally answered with a brilliant smile.


End file.
